


Lost Warmth

by YonemuriShiroku



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: I do not take responsibility if anything bad happens, M/M, Mafia Boss x Young medical genius, R16 I think?, Underage - Freeform, after sex - Freeform, because I cannot write sex?, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 05:07:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30033495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YonemuriShiroku/pseuds/YonemuriShiroku
Summary: #Underage, implied sex, after sexAs usual, Herrsher returns to Nyx Pieta to seek warmth, as long as he can stop the boy's tears from freezing them both.
Relationships: Ainchase Ishmael/Noah Ebalon, Herrscher/Nyx Pieta
Kudos: 4





	Lost Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Short drabble of HerrNyx I translated into English.  
> Again, this is underage because no Nyx Pieta is not 18 yet (at least in this drabble).

Nyx is crying again.

The night is still pouring. Raindrops are knocking on the glass, counting each of his tears shattering on Herrshcer’s cheek before soundlessly dying out on the windowsill. The bedroom is sealed, cold winds screaming outside as every inch of the bedsheet is burnt with a sinking passion stretching on their hot bare skin – which now has started being cooled down by the falling tears.

Pulling his lips away from the bruised chest, Herrscher raises his head. The dull forest eye reflecting a white-haired figure is nothing different from the cloudy dark sky that locked up the moon out there: so heart-less as if those icy droplets breathing cold to his naked back were never its fault. The wounded arm with black bandages slowly trails from the back of his knee to the pale thigh, finally resting at the waist covered in gleaming sweat. The grey-haired man still doesn’t spit even one word.

Herrscher dislikes seeing Nyx cry, solely because Nyx has never wanted to let him see it.

More than anyone, just how desperately Nyx Pieta wishes to hide all emotion under a harmless smile – even though only faking it can easily drain every last cell of his, to the point that there’s nothing he can do except for helplessly letting long days eat up his soul, loneliness mixing with fears feeds on his flesh before spitting out an empty shell. All of which is solely for a little hope that when the night falls and Herrsher’s fingers are tracing his thigh, that warmth dripping down with each touch won’t be dissolved in the coldness, and all those lustful kisses will remain the overwhelmed passion Herrscher is always crazy to pour in every single corner of this body.

That’s why, once the weak eyelashes are filled with shining pearls, it means a cruel fact that the small heart of his cannot hold any more pain nor sadness. They have finally overflown, rising like a tsunami and wipe away all their hopeless efforts to be near each other. Herrscher hates it more than the gunpowder fiddling in his nose or the rusty taste dancing on his tongue. He hates the dreary sobbings which are far less amorous than when the two intertwine, hates how the corner of those eyes are reddened but not by enormous desires burning every nerve in enthrallment, moon-shaped pupils socked wet not by the pleasure of being filled with love.

Nyx wipes the tears, lowering his head deep. On another side of the window, the lively city is still being engrossed in flexing its prosperity, neon lights flicker on his pale face, framing his shoulders trembling as if would shatter under the slightest touch. Herrscher doesn’t bother getting angry over whether it’s because of their last workout or the chaos feelings swirling inside the boy anymore. Instead, he takes his wrist, gently place his lips on the heavy eyelashes before taking away the salty drops with his tongue.

The man kisses on his lover’s eyes, cossetting them much like a butterfly fluttering in the wind with its wings covered in pollen, or a rose petal bathing in luminous mist while blooming with enticement. Herrscher takes his time tracing the teardrops falling down Nyx’s cheeks, from the corner of his eye to the beckoning lips and stops at the slightly opened mouth. Before he can even realize it, their breaths are already imbued with the other’s taste, familiar to every receptor under their skin.

Just this one kiss – more viciously than ever – otherwise, Nyx’s fingers wouldn’t be holding tight on the bandages on Herrscher’s chest until they all turn white. The man gazes at them yet doesn’t stop. An arm gently caresses the nape of his back while the other wraps around the boy’s hips, imprisoning him though Herrscher knows it better than anyone else: Nyx will not fight back, let alone running away – as it is now when his body has turned exhausted in the man’s arms, the shinning saliva flowing on his chin and both lungs are torn up due to lack of oxygen, the boy doesn’t try to back away from him, even just one millimetre.

 _When a body has grown familiar with something, it accepts that as a part of itself, to the point that it can not live without that anymore,_ the words swim between Herrscher’s lounging thoughts, _Like a drug, or cocaine – knowing it’s toxic yet unable to give up._

Right. Their relationship is like a drug: ruler of the underground world and a newborn genius in the medical field - even though they both know clearly that it will only lead to perishment, yet none of them can stop craving for the other’s touch and breath.

For what reason is it?

Love, lust, loneliness – the names dive down deep in Herrscher’s head when he sinks in erotic kisses, none of which can be hot as Nyx’s tongue trapped in his mouth.

 _Meaningless._ Herrscher thought. _No matter what the answer is, you will always be here._

“A-”

Nyx suddenly squeaked, his lips hurt. Holding back his gasps, the boy looks at Herrscher cluelessly, only to see him bare his teeth to reveal a small patch of clear skin before closing his mouth, chewing a few times then swallow. Nyx realizes, Herrscher just bit and torn up his lips.

“Did it hurt?” Placing his chin on the boy’s head, he asks with a low voice. The green-grey hair cascades, fondling with his shoulders.

Nyx doesn’t answer. He can’t think. He hasn’t even found his heartbeat yet. The intense actions earlier drained his limbs while sending his mind at lost. Aftertaste of pleasure left in the body’s memories can not smear the dark feelings of worried seeing a wounded Herrscher appear by his bed, and just that very moment could send Nyx’s mind crashing, broken in pieces under the unbearable weight of despair. Herrscher’s obvious question is merely a ripple drowned in the vast ocean.

The only thing Nyx can do was burying his face in Herrscher’s neck, taking on every endearing scent of the man’s existence pressing on his skin as if doing it would erase all dark scenes that have been hunting him in nightmares, only to be thrown back in a painful present where gunpower lands on his nose. Nyx feels his heart heavy again.

Herrscher speaks up.

“If it hurts, just cry.”

Just as that, every thought in Nyx’s head was silenced.

From this angle, he can’t see his face, yet the large hands caressing his neck to thighs along with the seducing kisses falling on his hair tells him that: _There’s nothing to ponder anymore._

Letting out a sign, Nyx hugs Herscher around the next, feeling his sweaty fingers slippers through moss green hair washed with blood and smoke. This moment, whether the heat is from withering ashes or another body digging deep in his flesh and bones, Nyx Pieta doesn’t care anymore.

The night is long, and Herrscher is here to keep him warm.


End file.
